


FLAMES OF DREAMS SERIES: GODS & MONSTERS [Reader x Ivar]

by HopeVainProductions



Series: FLAMES OF DREAMS [1]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22049884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeVainProductions/pseuds/HopeVainProductions
Summary: You had never seen that much blood before.Bodies lying on top of other ones, making it nearly impossible for you to see the ground underneath.Loud screams echoed in your ears, and for a minute you thought you would go deaf because of it. Youcould barely identify your friends from your foes; that’s how many soldiers were there. You, theyoung queen, were so tired you felt as if you’d drop onto the ground any second now; the pure angerof seeing your people slaughtered, your kingdom ruined, kept you going. So you rose to your feet,your sword swinging in the air once more. Blood splattered onto your face – you instantly closed youreyes to stop the blood from reaching your eyes. When you opened them again only a second later thefirst person you saw was the one responsible for everything that was happening – the one that theycalled Ivar the Boneless, and the one that you yourself would kill.
Relationships: Bjorn (Vikings)/Reader, Bjorn/Torvi (Vikings), Halfdan the Black/Reader, Harald Finehair/Reader, Heahmund (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Heahmund/Lagertha (Vikings), Hvitserk (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Hvitserk (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Hvitserk (Vikings)/Reader, Hvitserk/Thora (Vikings), Ivar (Vikings)/Original Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Original Female Character(s), Ivar (Vikings)/Reader, Ivar (Vikings)/You, Lagertha (Vikings)/Reader, Torvi/Ubbe (Vikings), Ubbe (Vikings)/Reader
Series: FLAMES OF DREAMS [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587127
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	1. END OF THE PAST

You weren't foolish enough to think the kingdom of Essex would be unharmed by the Northerners wreaking havoc all through England.

Two kings had already fallen under their wrath - based of all the stories you had heard of them, they would not stop before gaining whatever they were there for. As their neighbouring kingdom, you knew it was only a matter of time before the heathens would come knocking on the gates of Essex. Everyone in the whole kingdom knew it - stories of the savages from Norway had been circling around ever since you were a child.

It was under the hands of one of them your father had fallen along with many other men and women. They had called him Ragnar Lothbrok, and even though no man's death brought you no joy a part of you was glad to hear of his demise. Essex had no part in his death, yet you knew his sons would not care for that. They had already pillaged many villages and cities in their path, managing to even gain the city of York which was one of the strongest ones in the whole country. Essex in its whole glory did not stand a chance.

It didn't matter to you how many times your sister or your advisors pleaded with you, you would not work out any deal with the Northerners. You had never begged anyone in your life, and you weren't about to do so now. 

"I may have forgotten our history my lords, but I have not forgotten my promise. The Northerners will gain this crown only when me or my sister are dead, not a moment sooner or later." You assured them, bringing their frightened faces a sense of comfort. If their young queen would die for them, they too would die for her.

***

It didn't take long for the famous sons of Ragnar Lothbrok to appear in your kingdom. You were sure they would attack Essex without any remorse. Instead, they wanted to meet and negotiate some kind of peace treaty. They would leave Essex in exchange of some land they could call their own. Of course in order to negotiate, hostages needed to be exchanged.

"I don't understand why do you need to go." Darelle, your younger sister by three years, exclaimed nervously. You didn't bother to look at her, focusing instead on hiding your dagger.

"I need to know how strong their army is. You know that." You replied, stopping only to let out a sigh. "My sweet sister, you do not need to worry. They will not harm me."

"You cannot be certain of that." She replied, forcing you to stop. Your heart ached to see your sister with tears in her eyes, but you had to force yourself to think of your kingdom before her.

The Northerners had never seen the queen of Essex before, hence it was easy for you to pretend to be the princess instead. You would gain a way into their camp and gain a way to see for yourself how strong their army was. That was your plan. You had made clear to Darelle _not_ to accept any deal the Northerners offered. If anything went as smoothly as you hoped, you would be back in your castle the following day.

"Darelle, everything will be fine. We both have a role to play in this. You know yours." Wrapping your arms around her, your sister let out a small sob. A loud horn alerted you that the heathens were now standing behind your gate. A small smile to your sister made her realize that she needed to act like a queen now; she instantly wiped her tears away, sending you a small nod before the two of you settled into silence, both of you deep in your thoughts neither of you dared to speak aloud.

When the gates slowly opened, you were surprised to see no more than five Northerners present. A part of you was disappointed to see that they were regular men like the ones living in your kingdom. Stories circling around England had always painted them as something inhumane, more God than men. Looking at them you had to admit that they didn't look anything important, perhaps a little taller and more muscular, but nothing else.

"Which one of you will stay here?" Your sister asked when the two of you - accompanied by a bunch of guards - rode closer to the figures. A couple of them seemed to be in an argument with each other - from their conversation you could clearly understand that one of them called Hvitserk wanted to be the one, yet his brother Ubbe argued that he was a better choice. Finally, they agreed on Hvitserk staying in Essex.

You had no complications to understand what the heathens were saying - the kings and queens had been so frightened of their attacks that they had started to teach their sons and daughters the language of Northerners. Your mother had done the same, meaning that you and your sister had no problems to communicate with them.

You sent a glance to your sister before riding forward just as the heathen named Hvitserk did the same. When you passed him the two of you glanced at each other; your eyes seethed with anger while his didn't. He had a rather playful smirk on his face, as if he didn't have a care in the world. You only wished you could be as carefree as he was. Your duties as queen - and the burden of the crown - didn't let you act like he did. Your kingdom had always come first, and it always would.

***

You wanted to let out a cry of despair when you finally reached the camp of the invaders. Looking at the number of the men and women it was clear that - if they decided to attack - Essex would fall. 

It seemed as if everyone in the camp stopped whatever they were doing and focused on you instead. Some of them moved closer to you, glaring at you and trying to look as threatening as they could. Ubbe guided you towards a tent before telling you to enter. Without any complaints, you did.

There was not a single person present except for you and him. There were evidence of a feast that probably took place last night, but other than that there was not much. You were about to ask Ubbe the purpose of being there if it wasn't for a voice yelling out first.

"Leave us." You heard the loud voice of metal before a man appeared. He didn't pay you much attention, focusing instead of Ubbe and sending him a glare. It was evident the two of them had a rivalry going on - Ubbe was about to argue but decided against it, leaving without any word to you.

The man in front of you was obviously some kind of a leader among the Northmen. His eyes full of authority, he didn’t take much notice of you, focusing instead of his walk towards a bench in the middle of the tent. You simply observed him with silence. A part of you wondered whether the man in front of you was the famous Northerman named Ivar the Boneless, the one you had heard so much of. According to your spies - as well as refugees from Wessex and East Anglia - he was the one to look out for.

“So you’re the famous princess of Essex Y/N the people speak so highly of.” He casually commented as he had taken his seat, throwing his crutch aside. His eyes pierced into yours, yet like Hvitserk’s, there was no anger in them.

“You have me at a disadvantage. You know of me, yet I do not know of you.” You announced, taking a seat from across of him when he motioned for you to do so. A smirk played on his face when he stood up, bowing slightly in mockery.

“Ivar the Boneless at your service, Your Highness.” He voiced loudly, clearly proud of his ancestry. It was when he took a seat that he finally observed the young woman in front of him. She was the most beautiful woman Ivar had ever laid his eyes on; it was as if she had been sent by the Gods themselves. But what he didn’t know that he had a queen in his hands, and that queen would _never_ give him what he wanted without a fight.

  
  
  



	2. INNOCENCE I CANNOT REPLACE

“How about a game of chess?” You suddenly questioned after minutes the two of you had spent in silence. Ivar looked surprised at your suggestion, yet nodded, grabbing his crutch once more to move to another table. You followed him silently, taking a seat from across him as you started to place the pieces onto the board.

“You don’t seem scared of me.” He blurted out. You didn’t have to raise your eyes to know that he stared at you with a curious look on his face. You shrugged for a second, and when you looked at him he had an anticipating look on his face, as if he was genuinely waiting to hear your response.

“There’s only one thing I am scared of, and that is  _ not  _ a man nor a woman.” A smirk appeared onto his face which he quickly suppressed. He wanted to ask more, but instead of doing so motioned for you to make the first move of the game.

There had been a slight fear in you before you made the decision to be the hostage instead of your sister Darelle. It had to be someone from the royal family, someone whose death would matter. There wasn’t a single person in court who didn’t try to change your mind; so many times they tried to make you see reason, tried to make you realize that the queen  _ could not  _ leave her kingdom, especially in the time of crisis as this.

It was your protectiveness over your sister that forced you to be that person. It came down to you or her, and you possibly couldn’t force Darelle into the camp of savages. Yet as you sat in a tent with one of the leaders of the Heathen army, they didn’t seem as savages like your mother had always told you they were. Your mother had always told you how Ragnar Lothbrok had killed your father just because he wouldn’t bow down to Wessex; she installed fear in you ever since you were young, tried to prepare you for a time they would return to England. Your mother knew they would - it didn’t matter how many times you questioned her about it, she never told you why she was so sure of it.

You and Ivar were so deep in your own thoughts that neither of you minded the silence. To your surprise it was a comfortable one. There were loud voices from outside the tent, making it obvious there was some kind of celebration or feast going on. A part of you wanted to ask Ivar whether he was going to join or not, but he made no indication of even considering doing so.

Ivar had to admit to himself that you intrigued him. There were not many people who didn’t fear him - even his own brothers did - yet you sat against him as if you didn’t mind his presence. He wasn’t naive to think that was the case; he was an invader to your land along with the chance that tomorrow the two of you could fight against each other. But he had to admit to himself that he liked the peace, even if that peace would last just for one night.

***

You had been twirling your ring around your finger for what seemed for hours - a habit of yours whenever nervousness overtook you. Hvitserk should have been in the camp around sunrise, and he was nowhere to be seen. From the corner of your eye you could see that some of the men were tightly gripping their weapons; Ivar and Ubbe, however, looked calm and patient, Ubbe more so than Ivar.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you heard the loud galloping. The sound indicated that there must have been at least ten people riding towards the camp of the Heathens. You were glad to see that you were right - Hvitserk was the one riding ahead with eleven of your guards right behind him. They were ready for a fight; unsure of the pagan they believed that he was likely to guide them into a trap. They instantly relaxed when they saw you, their queen, safe, although surrounded by an army twice the size as theirs.

You slowly urged your horse forward; for a second your eyes landed on Ivar who was looking at you with an unreadable expression. Ubbe sent you a small nod and even a small smile, deeming it understandable that he was the most reasonable of the group.

“Princess.” Hvitserk said as he passed you, the same carefree look on his face like the day before. He didn’t give you any chance to say anything, riding straight into the camp while your guards surrounded you as if they were expecting an ambush any minute now.

You felt a sting in your heart when you looked back at the camp, making you doubt your promise to your mother. It was on her deathbed she had made you promise that Essex would forever remain in your family - an outside force would never gain the crown of the kingdom. It was a reasonable thought - if only a deal could be worked out you could save the lives of so many people, the lives of the men you had grown up alongside with.

But you knew it was a foolish thought.

***

“Order everyone to gather their belongings and go to Kent.” You commanded to the first guard you met as soon as you were through the gates of your kingdom. He instantly nodded, running off while you were greeted by your sister who instantly wrapped her arms around you.

“Thank God you are alright.” She said hugging you, a sign of affection which you didn’t return. It was a sign to her that something was off - when she pulled away she saw the worried look on your face.

“Those pagans will attack, Darelle. We need to get as many people away from here as we can.” She nodded, stopping in her tracks and letting out a sigh.

“I know they will. He said so.” She stated; you didn’t have to ask who  _ he  _ was. Hvitserk.

“He knows that you are the queen, Y/N. One of the handmaidens came into the room while we were talking and accidentally addressed me as the princess, and -” Your younger sister stopped when you held your hand up. A part of you felt anger while the other one cursed yourself for letting your younger sister deal with such a delicate matter - making such a simple yet grave error clearly meant she was far too wide-eyed to deal with matters of kingdom.

“It does not matter, Darelle. What matters now is that you get those people into a safe place. Kent will be the safest place for you right now.” You explained, not giving a chance for your sister to argue which was clear she wanted to do.

Loud bells suddenly rang, unleashing a chaos in the middle of the kingdom. Villagers running around, clashing almost with the soldiers running towards the gate; archers on the walls ready to fire the invaders. With a quick look to your sister you grabbed your sword - a family heirloom - that your sister had brought to you, and ran to the walls next to your archers.

As they stood on the field, about to attack your precious kingdom, it looked as if there were even more warriors present than you had seen in the camp. It was possible, of course, but now it didn’t matter. Your eyes instantly found Ivar’s - the man stood in a carriage with a huge smile on his face, Ubbe and Hvitserk next to him with Hvitserk matching Ivar’s smile.

Only your God or theirs was present - you could only pray for it to be yours.


	3. WORLD FOR THE TAKING

You had never seen that much blood before.

Bodies lying on top of other ones, making it nearly impossible for you to see the ground underneath. Loud screams echoed in your ears, and for a minute you thought you would go deaf because of it. You could barely identify your friends from your foes; that’s how many soldiers were there. You, the young queen, were so tired you felt as if you’d drop onto the ground any second now; the pure anger of seeing your people slaughtered, your kingdom ruined, kept you going. So you rose to your feet, your sword swinging in the air once more. Blood splattered onto your face – you instantly closed your eyes to stop the blood from reaching your eyes. When you opened them again only a second later the first person you saw was the one responsible for everything that was happening – the one that they called Ivar the Boneless, and the one that you yourself would kill.

It wasn't easy, that much was clear. He was surrounded with many warriors, forcing you to admit that even if you managed to reach him, you would most certainly die doing so. Yet you couldn’t be selfish, not at a moment like this. At least your sister would be safe and able to continue the legacy of your family, a legacy that had lasted for almost a century.

Your sword clashed with another, sending you flying forward. You were about to fall but managed to force yourself to stand still, piercing your sword through a northman’s body. It didn’t take long for another one to attack; he too shared his countrymen’s destiny.

Ivar had noticed you fighting near him, and even though he didn’t want to, he had to admit that you were one of the most skilled warriors he had ever seen - it wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that your skills matched the famous shieldmaiden Lagertha’s. He saw the determination in your eyes; he saw how exhausted you were, yet continued to fight. In his eyes that made you equal - he would have even wanted to applaud you for being the bravest person he had seen in England all together.

Attacked from one side, then another, it was nearly impossible for you to move forward. Amidst all of the fighting you lost sight of Ivar; you tried to search for him, but couldn’t. Bodies were blocking your sight of view. Just before you were about to give up hope his body on his crutch came into your view. Slashing bodies with no stoppage you ran towards him; he hadn’t noticed you.

Your sword fell to the ground - you would have wanted to pick it up, but couldn’t since another Heathen appeared to attack you. With a quick motion you grabbed your dagger, landing it into his neck. He let out a loud yell to which you pulled the dagger out, fully intent on using it on Ivar.

The young man turned around just as you placed the dagger onto his neck - surprise was evident on his face. He probably hadn’t thought you would gain a way to him.

But you hesitated - just for a split second - yet it was enough, because the next thing you heard through the chaos were the words you dreaded to hear the most.

“Lower the dagger, or the princess dies.”

You recognized the voice as Hvitserk’s before you could even glance at the source of the voice. Your eyes stared into Ivar’s icy blue ones while the man simply smirked at your actions. He knew even before you did that he would not die there – Hvitserk having your sister in his arms only confirmed that. He was sure that it was because of his brother’s interference he was still alive, and not lying on the ground on his way to Valhalla.

“Don’t do it Y/N, kill hi-“ Darelle pleaded, stopping when Hvitserk forced the blade more forcefully onto her neck. It was then you dragged your eyes from Ivar and focused on your sister instead. You were expecting to see your younger sister with tears in her eyes and frightful for her life, but instead Darelle had a determined look on her face. It was evident to you that Darelle was not afraid to die, and would even  _ prefer  _ death than being a slave for any Northerner.

“Kill me. And your sister.” Ivar casually commented, waving a hand in Darelle’s direction. He didn’t have any fear in him – it was that moment you realized that all of the stories you had heard in your childhood were true. All of the stories about the men and women who had killed your father were true.

The world seemed to stay still as everyone stared at the two figures standing in the middle of the court. The whole fight had stopped; both of the fighting sides knew that if the queen of Essex were to kill Ivar the Boneless, the fight would be finished. You would become a legendary queen, and the invaders would have to return to Kattegat in shame.

When you finally let the knife drop onto the ground, you were grabbed in an instant. A set of arms forced you to kneel right in front of Ivar who was watching the whole ordeal with a smile on his face. Your eyes found your sister who was dragged away by Hvitserk, and you could clearly see the disappointed look in her eyes. And even though there was no fear in Darelle before, there certainly was now.

“You should have killed me, queen of Essex.” Ivar threatened with a low voice, kneeling down to your eye level. “After I am finished, you’ll wish I’d kill  _ you _ .”


	4. THE PRISON I BUILT MYSELF

You had lost count of the days you had been in the dungeon. At first, you had diligently counted the passing nights, but after six days you stopped. In your mind, you were to be killed anyway; it didn’t matter to you how long you’d have to wait for it.

You were damned to replay the whole fight in your mind, day and night. As much as you tried to, you couldn’t understand why your God had chosen for you to die under the hands of a Heathen. After taking your father and your mother, it was evident to you that He was content of having your whole family. Were your souls really  _ that  _ important to him?

Someone occasionally visited you, even though you could care less. Ivar was sending some food to you, just enough for you to barely survive. You however, in your whole stubbornness, refused to touch anything those _ pagans  _ were giving you. You would rather very much starve to death.

It was early in the morning when two of the Northerners barged into your cell, grabbing you out of it without saying anything. You, the former queen of Essex, didn’t resist, not one bit - you knew it was the day you’d die, but instead of going to the courtyard for your execution you were instead led to the throne room.

When you were thrown into the room the first thing you saw was Ivar sitting on  _ your  _ throne, wearing  _ your  _ crown. You could only scowl at the image before you were pushed forward, closer to the new king of Essex. You weren’t surprised to see Hvitserk there, but you were definitely surprised to see your sister standing next to him. The princess had a guilty look on her face, avoiding your eyes and focusing on Ivar instead. You didn’t have time to wonder the reason before Ivar spoke out, forcing you to focus on him instead.

“Ah, queen of Essex!” He yelled sarcastically. For a second he seemed to forget that he was the new king of the kingdom, yet quickly recovered from his mistake. “Well,  _ former  _ queen of Essex.”

He seemed to take much pride in seeing you so defeated - stories would forever travel around of the great Ivar the Boneless, the one who defeated the magnificent queen of Essex.

“We have a problem to solve. Your sister  _ graciously _ agreed to come back to Kattegat with us.” He explained, glancing at Darelle and Hvitserk before turning his attention back to you. “I am willing to offer the same thing to you.”

“The people of Essex will  _ never  _ accept you as their king. No matter how many of them you kill, they will never bow down to you or any other Heathen.” You snarled back to which he let out a quiet chuckle.

“That is why you are still alive, queen of Essex.” With a wave of his hand he commanded everyone in the room to leave; with Hvitserk grasping her arm Darelle was dragged away, taking a look back to send you a terrified look. You wanted to reach out to her, to assure that no matter what, everything would be alright. The truth was, you didn’t know that; the odds were not in your favor.

“It is true that your people would not accept me as their king, but with you by my side they would.” He stated as if the notion of marrying his enemy did not bother him at all. You were surprised to say the least; it was even a surprise to you that you were still alive. Now you understood why - he needed you to enforce his reign on your people.

“Or your sister will die. Your people will die. You will see them all die before I kill you.” He warned with a low voice, rising from now  _ his  _ throne and walking closer to you with the help of his crutch.

“The choice is yours, queen.”

***

You prayed for guidance; you prayed for God to give you a sign that someday Essex would be yours again. You prayed for hours, but he did not answer. It wasn’t a surprise no more - he never responded. You wondered whether he  _ really  _ cared for your well-being - as much as you tried to assure yourself that whatever he did was for a reason, you couldn’t see the reason behind a future you were about to have.

There was no choice, not really.

You could see the confused looks on your people when Ivar addressed them with news that he - with your blessing - was now the king of Essex. Their confusion grew even more when he announced that he would marry you, meaning that you would  _ still  _ remain as their queen. It was evident people wanted to voice their discontent, but were too afraid to do so. They had now seen what the famous Northmen were capable of; a lot of high-ranking army generals of yours had already been executed.

Luckily, you managed to bargain the release of your soldiers with the demand that they would bow down to Ivar and recognize him as their new leader. Your people were given a chance to peacefully leave your kingdom if they desired to do so; not a lot of people did. Essex was all they had ever known, and even the fear of the new invaders would not drive them away.

You begged Ivar to let your sister go, but to no avail. He dismissed your plea and to your shock announced that his brother Hvitserk was interested of her. The one good thing was that at least you could see her, even though she refused to look at you. Her anger had not yet waivered; knowing her it would not any time soon.

It didn’t take long for the Northmen to start making preparations for their return to Kattegat, the place in Norway most of them were from. You learnt that Ubbe had already returned. To make matters worse, Ivar told you of his plan to meet a king named Harald with whom he could attack Kattegat. He told you of his ambitions to become king, emphasizing that it would be in your best interests  _ not  _ to object him.

You agreed, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do. It was the opposite of what your mother had taught you to do.

But it did not matter anymore. You had your survival - as well as your sister’s - to think about. 


	5. FIGHT INSIDE

_Surrounded by people, yet still alone._

That’s how Ivar felt. He couldn’t count all of the people in the throne room even if he wanted to. There were those wrestling, those drinking and laughing, and him, sitting on the throne of Essex and observing them all. The wine in his goblet was long gone, but he didn’t even notice it, twirling it around in his hands while his eyes wandered around the room. It was a magnificent castle he had gained, and he was proud that it was all because of the strategy he himself had thought of.

But something was missing. He had three kingdoms in a foreign land he was the king of; soon, the woman who murdered his mother would be dead and he would be the king of Kattegat. He was to marry a woman he felt was equal to his great self, yet his heart was craving something or someone - Ivar in all of his intelligence couldn’t figure out what it was. It was the frustration - as well as the loneliness - that forced him to leave the feast early in its beginning. Those who noticed paid their respects to him; only Hvitserk tried to stop him, but it took one glare from Ivar for him to abandon his intention. 

For a second his blue eyes softened when he saw your sister Darelle by Hvitserk’s side. It was unmistakable she didn’t want to be there, yet a smile was on her face. He wondered if it was because of fear for her life - or for yours - that forced her to act as if she was happy to be with his brother. When his eyes met hers, the smile quickly disappeared, but reappeared as soon as Hvitserk played attention to her once more. 

With the help of his crutch he moved towards the room he had claimed as his. It was the most lavish one in the whole castle, fit for a king or a queen. One of the maids was present in the room when he entered it - her eyes betrayed her fear as if she was sure Ivar would violate her soul and body in ways some of his countrymen did to the women of Essex.

With a wave of his hand the maid hurried out of the room - Ivar was sure she would cry tears of joy as soon as she was safe in the comfort of her own four walls. A sigh escaped his lips when he threw his crutch onto the bed; the room felt so empty, so foreign to him. He tried to remind himself it belonged to him now, yet he couldn’t wait to leave England and return home. After all, he had gotten what he had came there for.

***

“Dear God, I have not asked much from you. I know that whatever happens must happen, as it is what you wish. I only ask you to keep my sweet sister Darelle safe. It does not matter what happens to me, but if something was to happen to her-” you stopped, your eyes solemnly focused on the cross in front of you. You forced those thoughts out of your mind, but couldn’t stop them from returning. Your heart worried for Darelle; you hadn’t seen her for two sunsets. For all you knew she was dead, or perhaps the pagan Hvitserk had forced himself onto her - you weren’t sure which of those options was the worse one.

The uncertainty killed you inside. You would have done _anything_ just to see her for a second, just to briefly glance at her and see that she was alright. For a second you were willing to beg Ivar for his permission, yet you knew it would have been a fruitless undertaking. He would let you see her _only_ when he himself choose so - not any moment sooner. You had no power left in Essex; you wanted to shed a tear for your odious future, but none left your eyes. 

“Do you believe a man on a cross can help you?” Ivar’s loud voice questioned from behind you. You quickly responded by turning around, annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even spend time in prayer alone without him or any of the other pagans observing your every move.

He didn’t have his crutch with him. It was the first time you saw him crawling on the floor; the man didn’t now seem as if he was the greatest king of the Heathens. With you on your knees, the two of you were on the same level - he wasn’t towering over you like he usually was or looking down at you. At that moment he seemed vulnerable; perhaps he was waiting for you to make fun of him like so many had done in his life.

In your mind, the only laughable matter was the situation you were in. He might have been a cripple, yet he had managed to do many things no one had done before.

You didn’t reply, instead turning your attention back to the figure you had stared before his arrival. His eyes too followed yours, yet he didn’t pay much attention to it. He had seen the same figure on a necklace his father wore secretly, and knew it meant a great deal to the Christians with the same kind of importance his arm ring was to him.

Ivar hated the silence more than he dared to admit. He wanted you to do anything - hit him or shout at him; he wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d try to kill him when he was there. Anything would have been better than the silence. You had been a pleasant company in the past, one whose presence he enjoyed which was saying something - he didn’t enjoy _anyone’s_ company.

He let out an angry sigh when you didn’t say anything for minutes. Looking over to him you saw him rolling his eyes as if he was a annoyed child who didn’t get what he wanted. The sight amused you - you debated whether to comment on it or not, deciding not to do so. His wrath was the last thing you needed.

“Is my sister well?” You asked, hoping to gain a truthful answer from Ivar.

“Perhaps you should worry more about yourself.” He answered quickly. He could clearly see the desperation in your eyes, as if you would be content with any piece of information he would give you. 

“You will see your sister tomorrow. Tomorrow we leave Essex behind.”


	6. OF THESE CHAINS

Your mother had always told you you weren't meant to obey no man. 

As you sat in a Heathen's ship, on your way towards another pagan, you wondered whether she had been mistaken. Or perhaps your situation was so dire you had no choice _but_ to obey those men around you. If it was you alone there, you were sure you would have given them hell, not caring what happened to you; but you weren't, and whenever you looked at your younger sister you reminded yourself of that. 

You thought it would hurt more - after all, Essex was all you had ever known. Almost eighteen years you had spent in the kingdom, and now it was taken away from you. For the sake of Darelle you promised yourself not to show any sadness, even though your heart wept for your beloved country, and the fact that you would probably never see it once more. You observed every one of your subjects faces before departing; the women of Essex cried for your destiny, and the men prayed for their queen.

There was another Saxon present besides you and your sister. You knew the man was the famous bishop Heahmund, the one who was famous all through the country for his glorious battles and victories. As your eyes observed him you thought to yourself how the two of you were destined to share the same fate - both of you were defeated by the army of Northmen, and were now on your way to their land, forced to leave your motherland behind.

Without saying anything you walked over to the man, alerting your captors. Their eyes followed your every move; you were sure they thought you were about to do something impermissible. Instead, you took off one of your many furs, placing one around Heahmund's shoulders. The man wanted to thank you, but didn't manage to say anything - he was shivering badly and you were sure he would freeze to death. You saw the grateful look in his eyes to which you responded with a small smile before walking back to your original spot beside your sister.

You wouldn't have been surprised if the pagans would have ripped the fur off him the first second you left him. For a while you thought they would do so, yet no one bothered him. You were sure it was because of Ivar; you saw him observing you as if he was scared you'd jump off the ship the second he took his eyes off you. With a wave he dismissed the ones who wanted to make sure that Heahmund's journey to Norway was as unpleasant as possible; because of that, no one even glanced at his direction, and didn’t bother him the whole journey to where king Harald was - a journey that everyone else but you, Darelle and Heahmund was looking forward to.

For a while you forgot your tragic future - at the sea you felt free, yet the truth was, you were in chains.

***

Your younger sister clung to your arm when you stepped off the ship. Silently the two of you followed Ivar and Hvitserk, your eyes looking at everything but the two of them. The amount of people glaring at you was overwhelming - it was _you_ who was now an intruder and a pagan in their land.

When you reached the great hall you and your sister were stopped just outside of it. The two brothers entered, and it was not long Heahmund too was brought next to you. The man looked a little better than before, yet comparing to you and your sister it looked as if he had been through hell. You had gained the treatment fit for a royal, and he had gained one worse than an animal did.

It was only at Ivar’s command you were forced inside the building. You and Darelle didn’t resist - the two of you knew there was no point to it. Heahmund on the other hand had to be dragged inside as he was instantly thrown onto the floor in front of the great king Harald Finehair.

The man on the throne certainly looked as if he was a great leader. Next to him sat a dark haired woman who you could only assume was his wife. Both of them looked as if they belonged on the throne and as if it was made just for the two of them alone.

“Bishop Heahmund.” Ivar announced loudly, motioning towards the crouching figure. Harald didn’t seem to care much for him; instead he was focused on you and your sister as the two of you stood behind Ivar as well as Heahmund.

“Who are they?” Harald questioned, gesturing towards you and Darelle. From behind you were slightly pushed closer to the king, but it was Ivar who spoke before you had a chance to do so.

“They are from the kingdom of Essex. That is the princess Darelle.” He announced, glancing at Darelle before turning his eyes towards you.

“And this is Y/N, former queen of Essex,” to answer Harald’s confusion, he added: “I plan to marry her.”

“Unless one of us dies first.” You quickly added with a small sarcastic smile. Harald responded with a laugh while from the corner of your eye you saw Ivar glare at you before turning his attention back to king Harald.

“I like her.” Harald announced loudly to which some of his companions nodded in agreement. Ivar could only _pretend_ to smile in gratitude, but he saw the look in Harald’s eyes that you didn’t. He didn’t trust the king not one bit; his pride almost hadn’t allowed him to accept his terms of an alliance. And when he observed the glances by king Harald towards your direction, or the little jokes he did to make you feel more welcome in his kingdom, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach - one that he didn’t want to admit to himself.

Yet all through the night the feeling didn’t leave, and he was forced to spend the hours staring at the ceiling of his room, wondering what was the purpose of the feelings he was having.

Until he finally landed into a peaceful slumber.


	7. DANGER IN YOUR EYES

It broke your heart to see your sister in pain.

At night, she would wake up with a loud scream, followed by tears that never seemed to stop flowing. Your tight hugs did barely nothing to help her, and the loud sobs broke your heart. You were helpless and forced to witness her sadness without no power to help her ease the grief she was feeling.

At day, Darelle wasn’t any better. She didn’t show her tears to no one, but the redness of her eyes was one the many indicators of what the girl spent her time doing. Not that anyone cared for her. The people of Harald’s kingdom barely paid you two any mind. They seemed to be more focused on Heahmund, especially after his declaration of whose side he was now fighting on.

You understood his reasoning and didn’t view him as a traitor like Darelle did. She was quick to accuse him of betrayal; you, however, couldn’t force yourself to agree with your younger sister. If Heahmund was a traitor, then who were you? He had been a captive just like the two of you, and his situation was not any different. No matter how hard you tried to make Darelle see that, the girl stayed true to her beliefs.

Fortunately for you, Harald had granted you permission to walk around the kingdom without any escort, much to Ivar's dismay. You took every moment you could to get away from everyone; there was a secluded spot near the docks that you liked to visit often. The view it provided reminded you of Essex and the sea surrounding it. It even managed to make you falsely believe you were home until your mind reminded you of the truth - you were too far from Essex.

It was early in the morning when you sat at the same spot, your mind clouded by the mass of thoughts going through your mind. Most of them featured Darelle, and the fact that soon you would be leaving - once again - to a new place the Northmen had called Kattegat. A part of you worried over the fact that you were dragged to a fight you had no part in; the other part of you dreamed of the possible outcomes of the fight. If Ivar was to fall, whose to stop you from leaving and returning to Essex once more?

You jumped up when you heard a branch snap from behind you; in an instant you were grabbed by a pair of hands while another one stopped you from screaming out loud. You tried to do as much damage as you could to the assailant, but failed to do so. The bearded man in front of you suddenly took out a dagger and placed it onto your throat, his eyes burning with fury while yours were filled with fear.

“Christian bitch.” He hissed with anger, the tip of his blade dragging across your exposed neck. You were sure he would use his weapon on you any time soon; startlingly for you, the fear you had felt had disappeared and was replaced with much more ferosity than his.

You were about to dare him to act when another dagger landed on his neck. You were instantly released as the other man was about to attack your savior, yet he didn’t manage to draw his sword before one pierced through his body. You stumbled away from the falling bodies only to see that it was Ivar, his face covered in blood and a worried look that was only focused on you. 

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” He asked hurriedly, taking a step closer to you. His hand gently stroked your cheek, an action that took you by surprise. You shook your head, and for a second the two of you didn’t say anything, simply stared into each other’s eyes.

It was the first time you truly noticed him. His eyes were definitely the most striking part of him; what surprised you the most was to see worry in them, but behind the worry there was sadness. The man in front of you was not whole - as much as you tried to, you couldn’t understand what could possibly be missing in his life. He had  _ already  _ achieved so much, and you were sure he would do many great things in the future.

You hated yourself for thinking him handsome. He had taken  _ everything  _ from you, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking how in another reality perhaps you would have even been happy to marry him.

Ivar suddenly seemed to noticed his thumb brushing the piece of hair out of your face; clearing his throat, he retreated it and took a step back, his eyes landing on the now two dead bodies around you. He would have to deal with the aftermath of what his anger had caused him to do; to ease your mind, he decided not to tell you of their customs whenever someone was killed.

Ivar  _ himself  _ was the witness of the ordeal; knowing Harald, he would most definitely believe Ivar over you. 

In silence, he escorted you back to your room, not giving a glance to those who stared at his bloody face. And before you could thank him, he was gone.

***

You sat in silence next to Ivar, Harald sitting on your other side. The king tried his best to include you in a conversation with him and his wife Ingrid, yet the concise sentences made him quickly realize you were not in a mood to converse with him. 

It bothered you to the core that you hadn’t had the chance to thank Ivar yet. You were sure it was because of his interference you weren’t dead. He had left in a hurry; you couldn’t help but to wonder if it was because of the moment you had had prior. You couldn’t understand why you even  _ cared  _ what he thought. It was evident that he too was mostly occupied by his thoughts during the feast, and he barely paid you any mind, mostly talking to Harald as well as to his brother.

Luckily, Darelle looked to be in a happier mood; sitting opposite you, she and Hvitserk seemed to be getting along better than you and Ivar. Her laughing at a joke by Hvitserk made you raise your eyebrow - she seemed to enjoy his company and had forgotten about her worries. It was evident  _ something  _ had happened during the day that made her change her behavior. What worried you was that she hadn’t come to you about it, meaning that whatever it was, it was something that you wouldn’t approve of.

“Today is a full moon. Let us attack at two moons’ time.” Ivar’s declaration finally pulled you from your thoughts; glancing at Harald, he was quick to agree by his proposal. The verbal agreement was sealed by a toast. One of the first things you learnt about their customs was that whenever said a toast, everyone drank. You and Darelle were quick to follow the action; the cold ale felt as a nice change, one that you finished perhaps too rushly.

“So,” Harald started, his eyes on Ivar before turning his full attention to you, “Ivar told me what happened. On behalf of my kingdom, I apologize. I can assure you that nothing like this will never happen again.”

It was obvious that Darelle and Hvitserk had no knowledge of what had happened; their eyes full of confusion, Darelle looked at you for answers which you decided not to give, your eyes not meeting hers. Hvitserk looked at Ivar, yet the man barely paid him any mind.

When Harald placed his hand on top of yours - for whatever reason - Ivar instantly noticed it. He tried his best not to show any emotion, even though the only thing he wanted to do was to grab his dagger and drive it through Harald’s hand. The glare that he sent Harald went unnoticed by you, yet not by Hvitserk. They might have not been the closest, but Hvitserk  _ knew  _ his brother, especially when something bothered him. 

The sight bothered Ivar so much that it caused him to jump up from his seat and walk off without saying anything. You retreated your hand in confusion, looking him leaving and debating whether to follow him or not; from the corner of your eye you could clearly see the satisfied smirk on Harald’s face, one that matched Ingrid’s. 

Quickly excusing yourself you ran after Ivar; when you reached outside he was nowhere to be seen. Only after walking around for a couple of minutes you saw him at the edge of the forest, throwing his dagger into a tree and retreating it, over and over again. You slowly approached him and when he noticed you he said nothing, taking a seat on the ground and playing with the tip of his blade.

Your eyes focused on the man and without saying anything you took a seat next to him, staring ahead at the sky which was embellished by the full moon and the thousands of stars. It was a pleasant night, if only it hadn’t been for Ivar’s loud breathing which was so obviously filled with anger. You wanted to comment on it, but he beat you to it when he suddenly declared: “King Harald likes you.”

The way he said it made you believe for a second that he was jealous; you quickly assured yourself that there was no way he could have been.

“He may like me, but I do not return his feelings.” You declared confidently. Ivar turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching for confirmation of what you had said. He gained it easily, and he instantly felt calmer - yet he knew Harald, and he knew he had no problem taking what he wanted by force.

“Thank you for saving me today.” You said, fiddling nervously with the sleeve of your dress which Ivar quickly picked up.

“I’ve seen you fight. You fight better than any of our shieldmaidens. Soon you’ll be saving me from battle.” A small chuckle escaped from your lips which caused Ivar to smile. The air felt lighter than before as the two of you spent hours simply staring at the beautiful night sky. 


	8. ANOTHER SOUL TO STEAL

“Block, and attack.” Darelle found it hard to hold the heavy shield in her arms. Combined with the biggest sword she had seen, the young girl thought she would crumble under the weight of the weapon. You didn’t give her any moment to rest, attacking almost instantly and throwing blows Darelle barely managed to block. 

“Fight, Darelle!” You commanded your younger sister, your sword swinging in the air which Darelle - this time - managed to block quicker than the previous ones. In an instant the girl replied aggressively, striking you and almost managing to hit you if only you hadn’t reacted quicker than her. In an instant your dagger was on her neck; a proud smile appeared onto your face, matching Darelle’s as the two of you sat down onto the grass to catch your breaths.

“We have a lot of training to do.” You started, throwing a look to your sister from which she could easily see the determination. The girl couldn’t understand why  _ now  _ out of all times she needed to learn to fight; she had managed fifteen years without a single fight in her life. Of course she was no queen, hence the reason why your mother focused solemnly of your fighting abilities and not hers.

You remembered the many days your mother would command you to attend fighting lessons; out of all the memories, those ones stayed fresh in your mind. She herself had learnt the art of war, and was certain her daughter - the future queen of Essex - would need the knowledge of battle. Whenever you fought, Darelle would always sit on the grass, her eyes glued to you and your every move. To her, every move you made seemed graceful, even when your opponent managed to knock you onto the ground.

“I need to know you’re safe when we go to Kattegat. I cannot fight in peace knowing you could get hurt, and Hvitserk won’t be the-”

“What do you mean when you fight?” Darelle questioned in confusion; letting out a small sigh you turned your attention away from your sister and focused on all the people walking around. The warriors of Harald’s kingdom were fully preparing for the war, one that you were determined to fight in. 

This was not your fight, yet Ivar had made it yours. He didn’t have to command you to fight alongside him on the battlefield; the words he had chosen so carefully made the consequences clear if you acted opposite his wishes. You were sure that whatever Darelle and Hvitserk felt for each other, it was not enough to make him go against his own brother in order to protect your younger sister.

"I miss Essex so much." Darelle whispered quietly under her breath, barely able to keep the tears away. It brought her great sadness whenever she thought of her beloved home. As hard as it was, you forced the image of Essex away from your mind. Whenever you would think of your kingdom, your heart would become numb, and the tears would start flowing down your cheeks. Darelle was miserable enough, and for the sake of her you pushed the images away, assuring yourself that you needed to stay strong for the sake of her.

"I know, my sweet sister. But I promise you, one day we will return home, and we  _ will  _ take back what is ours." Once again, Darelle saw the all-too familiar determination in your eyes; by now she knew that your promise would be fulfilled. The look in your eyes assured Darelle that even if it cost you your life, you would do anything to make Darelle see Essex once again.

“And no heathen can stop us from doing so.”

***

It was hard not to notice the large group in the middle of the kingdom, and the loud yells and screams falling from their mouths. Sharing a quick look with Darelle, the two of you walked closer to the commotion; without having to say anything, the people allowed you to pass, even though their glares showed their reluctance of doing so.

It the middle of the crowd stood Headmund, Ivar sitting right in front of him with a smug look on his face. His eyes glanced at you and Darelle for a second before he again focused on the bishop. Heahmund had a knife placed into his hands; it didn’t take long for you to realize that Ivar had decided to test him and his allegiance to him. As much as you desired it, you  _ knew  _ that the man would not do anything towards the new king of Essex. If he’d do so, his death would be quick to follow.

The knife fell from his hands, even though it was quickly caught by Ivar. You didn’t hear what words the two men exchanged, yet they were something that made Ivar laugh out loud before his eyes once again found you. The smile from his face fell, and with a quick motion of his knife you had no choice but to move next to Heahmund. The bishop looked at you with slight fear in his eyes, especially when Ivar handed you the knife he had just held in his hands.

“We now know that bishop Heahmund will stand with us against my brothers in Kattegat. Let us see if my future wife will do the same.” A smirk appeared onto his face, and even Harald became interested to see what you would do, even though he had barely paid Heahmund any attention before.

When you wrapped your fingers around the cold handle of the knife, a deep desire grew in you to use it against the person responsible for the greatest misfortune in your life. You stopped imagining all the possible scenarios of what would happen to you, realizing that it would bring you great joy to see Ivar’s dead body lying on the ground in front of you. For a second, Darelle even slipped from your mind, until you remembered her again when her hand squeezed yours.

Letting the knife drop, the same people who had stared at you with hatred only moments ago, let out a cry of loud roars as if they accepted you and the fact that they would have to fight alongside you on the battlefield. When they noticed your raised hand they stopped, silence taking over the whole crowd. Turning around, your eyes fell on the men and women you had heard wonders of, yet who were just as ordinary as yourself.

“People of Vestfold, I, queen of Essex,  _ future  _ queen of Kattegat, promise you that together no one can stand against the armies of Ivar the Boneless and King Harald Finehair. Riches and power await you, and by the time Kattegat is ours, history will forever remember the brave men and women of Vestfold.”

The loud approving yells started once again, now more powerful than before. The people seemed to forget the fact that you were a Christian, one that they days before wanted to kill. Now, their hatred had turned into admiration, and looking at the crowd, even you couldn’t stop but to form a small smile onto your face.

His eyes solemnly focused on you, Ivar knew he had made the right choice by bringing you with him. Within the next days, Kattegat would finally have the queen it _deserved_. 


End file.
